Stranger, Would You Please?
by ginny-go die in a corner
Summary: A chance meeting makes for a life-changing encounter, which for Hermione Granger, occurs in the mens' restroom at King's Cross Station. Not that she's complaining... yet. LEMON and some random fluff thrown in for kicks! Post-Hogwarts. HGHP
1. Glance

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

a/n: My first lemon, so be nice!! I like reviews, so remember that, mmk?

* * *

Hermione Jean Granger was waiting patiently for her train when she saw him: A tall, lean, raven-haired Lothario with amazing emerald green eyes hidden behind a pair of square-framed glasses, which only added to his mysterious air. As she watched him, she couldn't keep a mischievous smile from forming on her lips. She slowly lowered her book and pretended to fix the strap on her sandal as she watched him.

He stood in line at the ticket counter directly across the room from where she sat, his black coat thrown carelessly over his arm and a red suitcase by his feet. He looked aimlessly around the terminal, his eyes occasionally flickering her way. Hermione blushed slightly as she sat back up and resumed 'reading', hoping that he wouldn't notice her, yet at the same time praying that he would.

The lady at the ticket booth called "Next!" and the man bent and grasped his suitcase by the handle before walking purposefully to the counter. Hermione couldn't hear what he was saying to the ticket woman, but she could see her blush and give him a response as she took his papers. She turned to her computer and discreetly fixed her red hair, her eyes gleaming in the dull light that radiated from the computer's tiny screen.

Hermione felt a surge of jealousy course through her. He should have been talking to _her_, not to some overweight ticket wench, who worked in the South Terminal at King's Cross, and who wore enough makeup to put even Miss Piggy to shame. Hermione took a deep breath and exhaled, letting her eyes close. _Calm down, just calm down,_ she told herself. _I'm overreacting. There's no way in _hell_ this guy will notice me anyway, so there's no need to get so worked up._

At 5'5", Hermione was average size. Narrow hips, size B-cup bra, slender middle, but not reed thin. She had since her years at Hogwarts, tamed the raging beast that was her hair. It was still long and brown, but instead of being frizzy, soft, loose waves framed her angular face. She hardly ever wore makeup, but was thankful that she had happened to wake up early enough on that particular day which gave her enough time to swipe on some eyeliner and mascara before leaving for the train station. Overall, she thought herself mildly unimpressive, and was quite sure men felt the same. During school she had had only one boyfriend, whose name she could no longer remember. The only thing she was sure of was that he was mildly unimpressive himself, so the two had been a perfect match.

She peeked at the stranger from over the top of her book and watched as he reached around and took his wallet from his pocket and pulled out a card, presumably an ID, and handed it to the woman at the counter. Hermione noticed that he had quite a nice ass for such a skinny guy. After looking at the card for a moment, the ticket lady said something else to him and handed the ID back to him, along with a ticket. The man took the ticket, nodded, then turned and walked away, fading into a crowd of people arriving from Ipswich. Hermione sighed and went back to actually reading her book, as she had been before he had captured her interest, but her mind kept going back to the stranger and she wondered how it would feel to have him fuck her.

* * *

Harry James Potter was waiting in line for a ticket when he saw her: a beautiful, leggy brunette with her nose buried in a book. He smiled to himself as he saw her glance his way. He turned his head quickly and pretended to study a travel poster on the wall next to him. Harry stared at the smiling family on the poster proclaiming that 'your summer is best spent state-side!' until he was sure that she had looked away before chancing a glance in her direction once more.

All her attention was focused on her shoe at the moment, which gave Harry plenty of time to check her out before she would notice. She sat on a blue, two-seated bench across from where he stood. Luck, on his part: he had considered going to a different ticket booth because the line for the one he stood in now had been so long, but now he was glad he had decided to wait. She wore a white, scoop-neck top that exposed only a slip of cleavage, even though she was bent over in her seat. A denim skirt that hit at mid-thigh and sandals that were fairly reminiscent of Greek-style footwear. He watched her straighten up and resume reading.

Harry kept watching her, his eyes wandering the terminal, but always falling back to her. Was she here with her boyfriend? Did she have a boyfriend? Did she have a _girlfriend_? He looked at the ground near her feet. Only one suitcase. She was here by herself, at least for the moment. He thought he saw her eyes flit towards him, so he looked away. But it must have just been a coincidence. She couldn't possibly be looking at him.

Harry knew he wasn't much to look at. His black hair was perpetually messy, giving him the impression that he had just woken up minutes before and hadn't thought to brush his hair before going out in public. He had a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead, just below the hairline that he was quite sensitive about, but the scar was usually covered by his tangle of hair. He also wore glasses, which he thought was the sign of a complete and total nerd who had no hope of getting laid, not now, or in the impending future. Other than that, Harry was just... average. Average height at 5'11". Average weight, although what that was, Harry didn't know. He just knew that he wasn't under nor overweight. Even his cock was average: 6 inches, if he cheated a bit. Perhaps the only extraordinary thing about him was his green eyes, a trait he gladly inherited from his mother.

"Next!" the woman at the ticket booth called, startling Harry out of his reverie. He stooped down and grabbed his suitcase before making his way towards the counter.

Harry smiled at the woman and held out his receipt for the train ticket he had bought online and his Visa. "Mum, if you don't mind me saying: you have beautiful hair," he noted as she took the piece of paper and the credit card from his hands.

The woman smiled and replied, "Well, thank you, dearie. It's natural, you know."

Harry nodded at the ticket woman as she turned to her computer screen to confirm his credit card number. He drummed his fingers lightly on the white counter top while he waited for the woman to finish punching numbers on the keyboard. He was impatient to continue watching the mysterious woman behind him. He imagined he could feel her eyes on his back, but that might have just been wishful thinking.

The ticket woman looked up at him expectantly. "ID?"

"Oh, of course." Harry drew his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his driver's license. He handed it to the woman who compared him to the picture on the ID. "That's kind of an old picture..." Harry said before clearing his throat.

The woman waved her hand as she handed him his ID and a ticket. "No worries! Have a nice trip, Mr. Longbottom!"

Harry nodded in reply, still startled by the use of the alias on his card, even after years of using it. "Thanks... I will." He turned and stepped away from the counter. He wasn't quite sure where he wanted to go just yet. He didn't want to stray too far from the mysterious woman, just in case he might have a chance with her, but he also didn't want to embarrass himself by going and talking to her if she wasn't interested. So he just kept walking straight and let his feet take him wherever they wanted, which happened to be in the direction of the food court and restrooms. As he walked, the thought about the woman and how good it would feel to be inside her: he hadn't had a good fuck in ages.


	2. Stalk

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

a/n: Thanks for all the lovely reviews!! The lemon comes in the next chapter!! I promise!!

* * *

Hermione folded down the corner of the page she was reading and shoved the book into her purse and tugged the zipper closed, slinging the bag over her shoulder as she stood. She mustered up what little courage she had and gathered her suitcase, following after the man. She doubted she was brave enough to actually converse with him, but the least she could do was stalk him for a while, a feat she had mastered in her third year at Hogwarts when she had liked Cedric Diggory but didn't have the guts to actually talk to him because he was so much older than her. Hermione had always had a horrible fear of rejection so she had trained herself to stop caring about her own feelings about herself, much less how others felt about her.

The man wasn't hard to spot among the rest of the crowd. He seemed to move separately from everything else, like he was a ghost that merely walked among the living, but resided in a completely different dimension. A quiet calmness emanated from him in waves, a stark contrast from the hurriedness of the train station. His sure demeanor drove Hermione insane. She wanted him. At that moment, if he had wanted her, she would have let him fuck her right there in the middle of the terminal.

She watched him make his way towards a coffee kiosk, once again admiring the tightness of his ass. She didn't realize that she had stopped walking and was interrupting the flow of traffic in the terminal, causing more than a few disgruntled travelers to cast her dirty looks as they shouldered past her.

"Sorry," Hermione apologized to a hefty man in a gray business suit as she stepped out of his way. He shook his head and continued on towards the food court. Hermione's eyes never left the stranger, afraid that he might disappear if she looked away.

She ducked behind a column and watched him order a drink from the youth that worked behind the counter. The boy nodded and punched the total on the cash register. Once again, the man reached into his back pocket and withdrew his wallet, handing the boy a coin. The man's slender fingers drummed lightly on the counter top as the boy turned and filled a Styrofoam cup with coffee, which he handed to the man. He nodded thanks and turned, his lips poised at the edge of the cup as she exhaled, steam from the coffee rising and swirling away. How she wanted those lips on her!

Hermione swallowed and took a tentative step out from behind the column. Her suitcase banged against the backs of her knees, almost sending her to the ground. She stumbled but braced herself against the column for support. The weak blow jarred a shred of common sense back into her mind. _This is so juvenile! _She shook her head and laughed quietly at herself for her stupidity. _I should just go back to the bench and wait for my train._

This decided, she took a deep, cleansing breath and stood up straight preparing to turn her back on the stranger, but as she looked up, she found her brown eyes locked with his green.

* * *

Harry was reluctant to let the woman out of his sight, but after losing a hard-fought battle with his conscience, he decided it was best if he just let it go. Although he happened to be feeling particularly horny at that moment, he tried calming himself down by telling himself that Ginny was always there for a quick fuck if he needed it. After dating off and on throughout their years at Hogwarts and for a couple years after they had both graduated, it was evident to both of them that the relationship wasn't really working out for either one of them. A mutual decision was made that the two would remain friends, but with some added benefits if the need arose. Harry sneaked a furtive look down at his crotch. Oh yes, the need had definitely arisen.

He held the arm that his jacket was slung over against his chest, using the folds of the jacket to cover his growing hard-on and tried to think 'clean' thoughts. _Quidditch, Ron, Beer, Mrs. Weasley…_ Not _Mrs. Weasley._ He shook his head to clear it of the image of Mrs. Weasley as he had last seen her, five years ago when he had visited the Burrow over Christmas break. He had accidentally walked in on her while she was showering early one morning and was startled to find that Mrs. Weasley wasn't as plump and motherly as her patchwork house dresses and flowered aprons suggested. She had laughed it off as an accident, her thinking of Harry as just another one of her brood, but to Harry, it was the last link in a chain of events that changed his belief that all was good in the world. This was also around the same time he lost touch with Ron, not to mention all his other school friends, and broke up with Ginny for the fourth and final time.

Harry found his way towards a small coffee stand and decided to buy a cup, just to give his mind, and hands, something to do. As he walked up, the boy that ran the stand barely took his eyes of off the magazine he was reading as he stood leaning over the counter. He peered up at Harry from beneath his blue fringe. "What can I get you?" he asked half-heartedly, his voice slightly impaired by a silver tongue stud.

"Tall coffee, black," Harry said to him after consulting the menu for a few moments.

The boy shoved his magazine aside and stood upright, swinging his hair to one side of his face as he punched Harry's order into the cash register. "'Sthat it?" the boy asked lazily. His eyes flicked to his watch then back to Harry.

Harry nodded and reached for his wallet. "Yeah. That's all."

The teen punched the total button and the register whirred to life, a receipt spitting out from the top and the cash drawer springing open. "£2 even."

Harry reached for his wallet and pulled out a £2 coin, which he handed to the teen.

He took the money and dropped it into the register, slamming the drawer shut with his hip as he turned to fill Harry's order.

Harry tapped a beat out on the counter top as he waited for his coffee. His mind slipped back to the woman. He had the sudden urge to just say 'forget the coffee' and go back to the ticket booth to find her and talk to her. He would've if the boy hadn't handed him his drink. Harry took the cup gratefully and nodded. The boy said nothing, just went back to his magazine.

Harry turned and blew on his coffee lightly. He looked around the terminal. _Now what? Do I go back? _He asked himself. Just at that moment, his eyes happened upon the woman. He stopped blowing on his coffee and the sides of his lips twitched up into a devious smile.

* * *


	3. Awkward

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

a/n: LEMON!!

* * *

Hermione smiled in return and released a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. Her smile only grew as the man made his way over to her. He stopped about a foot away from her.

"Hi," he said as he placed his suitcase on the floor next to him.

Hermione blushed. "Hey."

He was even more gorgeous up close. His messy black hair shone blue in the fluorescent lighting of the train station. His skin was perfect: creamy and white, as where his teeth. He had a dimple on his left cheek, but not on his right, which made him even more attractive to Hermione for his asymmetry. His arms were muscular underneath the sleeves of his blue t-shirt and his torso toned. Hermione felt her pussy getting wet with anticipation. She swallowed hard and allowed her eyes to roam south towards the man's cock. She could see it pressing steadily against his pants.

"So, um… I noticed you… reading." He cleared his throat awkwardly, drawing Hermione's eyes away from his dick.

Hermione nodded and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah. I noticed you… noticing me…" She laughed at the look of surprise on his face.

"Really?" Red crept into his pale cheeks giving him a cherubic glow. "I though I was being really... subtle about it."

She nodded. "You were," she reassured him. "I'm just fairly... perceptive..." She raised her eyebrows and bit her lip. "Isn't that hot?"

"What?" He stepped a tiny but closer. Such a tiny bit closer that Hermione wouldn't have noticed it if his jacket hadn't brushed against her leg with the slight movement.

Hermione pointed to the cup of coffee he held in his hand. "Isn't it hot?"

He looked down like he had forgotten the cup was even in his possession. "Oh... Yeah, a bit." He puckered his lips and blew on the coffee before taking a small sip. He drew back with a grimace and said to the cup, "I don't even really like coffee." He tossed the full cup into the trash bin next to them.

Hermione laughed. "Me neither." She swung her suitcase back and forth a bit, repositioning it in her hand, and looked around. Just as she had feared, the rush of first meeting had faded into a spectacular awkwardness, which made Hermione exceedingly uncomfortable. She looked up and said with a tinge of regret in her voice, "Well, I need to catch my train. This has been..." she searched for the right word, "fun."

In one swift movement, the man pushed her against the column by which they stood. He held her arms down by her sides gently. She could have pulled out of his grasp if she had wanted to, but she let him restrain her. Her heart pounded in her chest. He was so close she could smell him. A wonderful mix of sweat, coffee, and laundry detergent. She could feel his jacket slide off his arm and rub against her leg as it slipped to the ground but she kept her eyes on his. The man smiled again. "We can make it even more fun. I know we both want it. So why not?"

Her breath hitched as she forced her self closer to him, his throbbing length pushing against her hip. "Why not indeed?"

* * *

Harry could not believe his ears.

"Why not indeed?" She grinned at him, her eyes shining. She shinnied out of his grasp and began walking away, swinging her suitcase in time with her hips. Harry could only stare after her, his hands hanging limply by his sides. He really hadn't expected that sort of reaction to his proposition from a girl he had only just met, let alone a girl who looked so... 'pure' with her modest clothing and quiet, somewhat shy and uncertain, personality.

She turned back to him, beaconing him with an index finger and that irresistible smirk on her lips. He smiled and picked up his suitcase before following after her, not even hiding the fact that he was watching her ass hungrily as they walked. He fought the urge to take her right then and there. "Mens' or Womans'?" he heard her ask.

He looked up to see that she had stopped in front of a small hallway. According to the sign bolted to the wall before her, the mens' bath was to the right, and the womans' to the left. Harry shrugged. "I don't care, just pick one!" he said hastily, almost rudely. He wished he could have taken it back, but the need to have her was almost overwhelming.

She turned and frowned at him over her shoulder. He thought she was about to protest, but instead, she took his hand and led him down the right hall to the mens' bathroom. "You go in first and make sure it's empty," she commanded him.

Harry released her hand and nodded. He pushed open the bathroom door and stuck his head in. Immediately, a wave hit of lemon-scented disinfectant hit is nostrils. He didn't see anyone in the bathroom's anteroom, so he stepped in completely, letting the door swing shut behind him, temporarily cutting him off from his obsession of the moment, the mysterious woman. He took another few steps into the bathroom, the inner chamber slowly revealing itself. There was no one at the urinals, nor the sinks. Harry excitedly walked towards the stalls and pushed each door open one by one. They were empty.

He quickly walked back to the door and swung it open. She was leaning against the opposite wall her suitcase by her now bare feet and her blouse already unbuttoned, showing a slip of a black bra. "We clear?" she asked.

Harry had the sudden urge to laugh. Her formality and seriousness made him uneasy and giddy at the same time. He nodded to her. "We're clear."

With a heave, she pushed him backwards into the bathroom, her lips crashing into his, the door slamming behind her. She opened her mouth to allow him access. Harry broke the kiss and pulled away. She tore at the hem of his shirt. He complied and slipped it off over his head. "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say you have done this before."

She smiled as she turned and locked the bathroom door. "Who says I haven't?"

* * *

Hermione really had never done anything like this before. Of course, she had had sex before, a few times, but not in a public place with a complete stranger. No, her first time had been in the Forbidden Forest with Ron during their seventh year. It was messy and awkward, and on the whole, an occasion she would like to forget altogether. The two weren't even dating at the time, nor did they date at any point after that.

One night after a fierce argument between the two of them, they had happened upon each other in the forest, both having chosen to take a walk after hours to cool off. One thing led to the other and the next thing Hermione knew, Ron was inside her, pushing her back painfully on the roots of a tree.

However she tried to convince herself otherwise, the sex was consensual, and both were legal, so technically, there was no harm done. But Hermione never really talked to Ron again after that night and after they both finished school, she made no attempts to put the event behind them. The only real downside of ignoring Ron was that she also ignored her best friend, Harry, in the process, and in time, had lost touch with him as well. She doubted she'd even recognize him if he saw him. It _had_ been almost six years, after all.

"Have you?" The man's question brought her back to reality.

She looked at him, his hands paused, hovering over his belt buckle as if her answer was the deal maker or breaker. In answer to his query, she slipped her shirt off and threw it on the floor where it was quickly joined by her bra. Hermione launched herself at the man once more, her lips making contact with his as she wrapped her arms around him.

Her avoidance of the question didn't seem to put a damper on the man's mood. He kissed her back passionately as he undid his belt and unzipped his pants. He broke the kiss only to step out of his pants and kick off his shoes. Hermione took off her skirt as well and dropped it on top of her other discarded clothes.

Hermione got down on her knees before the man and slowly, almost tenderly, folded down the band of his boxers, exposing just an inch of skin at a time. She could tell that the man was beginning to become impatient for release, but she intended to let him suffer for just a little bit longer.

Finally, he was totally exposed, his erect cock inches from Hermione's mouth. She took it in her hand and began to massage it, lightly at first, her thumb pressing over the tip and moving in its own circular motion. The man moaned. Hermione was in total control.

* * *

Harry was ashamed to say that she was in total control of the situation. The woman had started to give him a handjob, but he wanted more. He shut his eyes as she began to pump faster, the friction sending shivers of pleasure up his exposed back as he thrust into her hand. "Please," he said as he gritted his teeth. He needed more.

With a grin, the girl lowered her head and licked the tip of his dick, her lips barely open. Harry closed his eyes. His hands found their way to the woman and he tangled his fingers in her hair. Her tongue circled his dick slowly and deliberately. Harry bucked wildly into her, but she placed her small hands on his hips, holding him back. A keening noise rose from Harry's throat. "Fuck!" He cried as the woman took him into her mouth, his cock slipping easily down her welcoming throat.

Harry thrust into her as she bobbed her head and alternated between hard sucks and light, teasing ones. She didn't have to work long before Harry was ready to explode. But instead of finishing him, she pulled back and wiped the saliva from her mouth as she stood. A growl of disappointment erupted from Harry's mouth, but instead of protesting, he found her mouth and latched on, his tongue exploring every inch of the wet cavern. He pulled away and began kissing his way down her neck. She moaned and arched into him, her nails digging into his back. His lips made their way to her erect nipples and sucked on one while he tweaked the other. She moaned again and bit his shoulder to keep from crying out.

"Now!" she gasped, pushing Harry off of her. He stumbled backwards into the side of a stall, his bare back hitting the plastic with a sharp 'slap'. The woman was panting as she lowered her underwear and stepped out of them, revealing a neatly trimmed pussy, already dripping wet. She put her leg up on the sink and said, "Fuck me right now!"

She didn't have to ask him twice.

* * *

Hermione moaned as the man but the tip of his cock on her clit. She closed her eyes and grabbed his member, guiding it into her pussy. He was all the way in on the first thrust. She put one hand against the wall and the other around his neck as he thrust into her, jamming the paper towel dispenser into her back. Hermione bit her lip to stifle a scream of pleasure. She felt a trickle of blood run down her chin. The man licked the blood off her face with a smile and continued to fuck her senseless.

For some reason, that, along with the fact that they could be caught at any moment, sent Hermione over the edge. She came with a mind shattering orgasm. Not long after, the man followed suit, quickly pulling out and spilling his seed on the white tile floor.

Hermione gasped for breath. "Merlin..." she whispered as she lowered her leg and staggered back. She placed both hands on the edge of the sink an leaned over, watching her glistening face in the mirror and her beasts as her chest heaved up and down. Her lip had begun to bleed again, but she paid it no attention. Instead, she laughed. "I don't even know your name," she said to the man as she turned to face him.

He stopped, his boxers now back on and his pants halfway up. "It's Harry."


	4. Sick

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

a/n: Sorry it has taken me such a long time to update! I promise to do better! Longer Harry's POV because I realized I was kinda neglecting him. Holla at my reveiwers!! :3 FLUFFEH CHAPTER!!

* * *

Hermione smiled. "Harry... I like that name." She picked her clothes up off the floor and set them in the sink after making sure that it wasn't wet. Selecting her underwear first, she stepped into them, pulling them up as she said, "I had a friend named Harry. Back in school." She watched the man pull his shirt over his head as she slipped back into her skirt.

"Um, this was..." he chuckled a bit, "great and all, but I think I've made a mistake," he said, his eyes not quite meeting hers.

She stopped buttoning her skirt and gave him a dubious look. "I know we're complete strangers and all, but..." Hermione wracked her brain for an end to that sentence, but never having had any experience dealing with regretful partners, she let the words die on her lips. "Listen... If you ever find yourself around Perth..." Once again, she stopped mid-sentence. What was she doing, inviting him to see her again? And at _work,_ no less! She wasn't sure he was a wizard, after all, and couldn't risk him finding out about Hogwarts. (Which was where she happened to be teaching Arithmancy next term.)

He shook his head, his raven hair obscuring his face like a curtain. "I think this ought to stay a 'one-time' thing, you know?" Hermione nodded eagerly in feigned agreement. There was no way she wanted this to just be a "one-time thing". She wanted to feel his cock throbbing inside of her again. To have his perfect lips violently ravish her own until she fainted with bliss. To feel his graceful fingers tracing every inch of her body. And maybe, once or twice, she'd like to go on an actual date with the guy. Though sex was great, Hermione liked to mix it up every now and then with a little monotony.

"Besides," he continued, "I have a girlfriend..." He finally looked up and met Hermione's eyes. She could read the remorse in his emerald eyes from clear across the room. Of course he had a girlfriend. He was too perfect _not_ to have a girlfriend. Hermione sighed. Once again, she was being rejected. And after having mind-shattering bathroom sex! Maybe it wasn't as good for him as it was for her. But then again, she hadn't heard any displeasure from him... Not that she gave him the chance to protest, having her lips locked securely on his most of the encounter.

She nodded once again, slowly. "Oh," was the only thing she could bring herself to say.

* * *

Harry sighed and opened his mouth to apologize, but she had already turned around to finish getting dressed with a bit more privacy than she would have had were she facing him. He hated lying to her about the whole "having a girlfriend" thing, but what else could he say to her? "Hey, I'm not some 'complete stranger' who just fucked you in the bathroom. It's Harry. _Your_ Harry. I didn't think you'd remember me, Hermione, but gosh, what a lovely reunion this has been." No, lying about a girlfriend was much simpler and probably would hurt her less in the end.

He had first realized it was his Hermione when she kissed him. There was something about the taste of her mouth and the eagerness with which she kissed that was indescribably passionate. It was as if she were afraid her very soul would escape out of her mouth if she didn't press against his lips hard enough, a feeling he had remembered quite well over the years, for he had never experienced anything like it before or since...

During their sixth year at Hogwarts, the two were alone in the Gryffindor common room doing homework. Actually, Harry had been doing homework and Hermione had been checking his work as he went along to make sure he did everything right. He was on the verge of flunking Potions and he needed all the help he could get. Harry had thrown his quill down in resignation and said to her, "I give up? Write it for me?" He looked up at her, his eyes wide and endearing, knowing full well that Hermione, though his friend, was still female and therefore could not resist his charms.

She had rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips to reprimand him for even _considering_ cheating, but then paused and thought better of it. "Tell you what," she said to Harry. "I'll do you're homework for you if you just..." She stopped and her face grew hot as a Weasley-worthy blush spread across her face.

Her reluctance to tell him what she wanted piqued Harry's interest. He scooted forward in his chair to be closer to her. "What, 'Mione?" She turned away and shook her head. "Just tell me!" Harry pleaded as he reached out for her hand. He had barely bushed his fingertips across the cool skin of her palm when she broke down.

Plopping down into the chair next to him with all the grace of a dying horse, Hermione began to blurt out everything she had not wanted Harry to know, making sure to avoid all eye contact, choosing instead to direct her monologue to her tattered Potions book.

"I'll do your homework for you if you just kiss me. One kiss is all. Nothing else. I've never been kissed before and everyone gives me such grief about it. You'd never believe all the nasty things Lavender Brown says behind my back. Just this morning, I heard her telling Ron not to ask me out because I was such a prude. And you know how much I really like Ron. I just don't want to mess anything up. You know?" By the time she was finished, hot tears were rolling steadily down her cheeks.

Harry stared at her, open-mouthed, not quite knowing what to say. His lack of response apparently upset her even more.

She gathered her books into a pile as she wiped her face on her shirtsleeve. "Nevermind, Harry. I'm sorry to have asked you that. I'm being insensitive. I know how you feel about Ginny."

Harry shook his head. "Hermione-"

"Don't worry," she interrupted him as she made to stand, "I'll write your paper first thing in the morning."

"Hermione," Harry said, a bit more forcefully, as he grabbed her hand, pulling her back down into her chair. "Don't feel bad." He took her face in his hands and wiped the tears away with his thumbs, like any good friend would do. He grinned sheepishly. "I've never kissed anyone either." Her eyes widened. "And aren't friends supposed to help one another out?" She nodded, her head still held between Harry's hands.

Without another word, he had pressed his lips against hers tenderly. He held her there for a few seconds and would have gone longer if Hermione hadn't pulled away. She opened her eyes very slowly. They were beaded with fresh tears, but they didn't fall. "Thank you," she whispered with a small smile.

Harry pressed his forehead against hers. "Why stop there? Let's give Lavender something to really gossip about."

He could almost feel her heart quicken. Her only answer was a quick nod before she latched onto his mouth again with such strength, Harry was pushed back in his seat. This only made Hermione advance further onto him until she was practically sitting in his lap. He was worried that she would feel his growing erection and stop, but either she didn't notice or didn't care. Harry removed his hands from her face and wound one into her hair while placing the other on the small of her back. Hermione's hands found their way under his shirt and up his torso to his shoulders where she dug her nails into the tender flesh at his collarbone.

There was a thud from one of the dormitories upstairs that startled them both. Their lips disconnected and Hermione removed herself from Harry's lap and was settling back into her own chair just as Ron stepped out onto the landing. Both Harry and Hermione hid their crimson faces behind school books and tried to calm their breathing.

"It's late. Some people are trying to sleep." Ron said above them, not sounding like he wanted to sleep in the slightest. "You finish that paper yet, Harry?"

Harry looked up at him and smiled a smile that had nothing to do with the prospect of finishing his paper. "Almost."

Ron smiled half-heartedly before turning and retreating back into the boy's dormitories.

Harry was never quite sure if Ron had seen anything or not, because he never said anything to either him or Hermione. Hermione refused to talk about that night ever again. Harry assumed because it was a moment of weakness in her stoic reputation and even though she was made fun of for being overly modest, she would never admit to anyone that she had made-out with Harry Potter. So Harry had never told anyone, saving the sweet memory for himself when he lay awake at night jerking off...

It was the woman's kiss that made him remember. And that's when he realized why he had been so attracted to her in the first place, why he had fucked her, fully knowing that he recognized her, but she didn't recognize him: She was his Hermione, and if she was still the same Hermione that he knew from Hogwarts, she would never have agreed to such a rendezvous had she known it was her Harry. And not telling her any of this, choosing to lie to her instead, made him feel guilty to the point of being physically sick.

He blanched. Hermione turned around, now fully dressed, and stared at him sadly. "Will you check to make sure the coast is clear before I leave?" she asked politely. "It would look strange if I walked out there into a group of guys waiting for the bathroom. Surely someone would assume..." She laughed quietly to herself.

Harry nodded and forced the bile he could taste in his mouth back down into his stomach. "Yeah, of course."

"Thank you," she whispered under her breath. Harry wasn't sure if she was telling him 'thank you for checking to make sure the coast was clear' or a sarcastic 'thank you for fucking me senseless and then telling me you have a girlfriend'. He decided to assume it was the former and nodded again.

"No problem." Harry walked over to the door, which, he noticed with relief, that they had locked, even in their haste. He turned the lock and opened the door a crack to peek out. The hall was empty. He shut the door again and went back to Hermione, who was inspecting herself somberly in the mirror. "All clear," he said. She jumped a little as if she had forgotten he were there and quickly wiped her eyes. Had she been crying? A new wave of nausea hit Harry like a truck.

She turned away from her reflection and looked up at him. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, carefully trying to conceal any obvious hitch in her voice that might give her away. "If I had known you had a girlfriend..." She stopped, but continued to stare up at him with her wide, amber eyes.

Harry took her face in his hands and dried her tears with his fingers as he had that night many years ago. Gently, he lowered his head and placed his lips on hers. He broke the kiss after a few moments, but she kept her eyes closed. "Don't feel bad," Harry told her, hoping that maybe she'd remember his words from years before and realize that it was him without him having to tell her so.

He realized his hopes were in vain when she pulled out of his hands and walked past him, out the bathroom door without a second glance in Harry's direction. Harry let his arms fall slowly back to his sides before rushing to the nearest bathroom stall and emptying his stomach into the toilet. He didn't know what made him more sick: The guilt, or the disappointment.


	5. Recognition

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

a/n: Quick update... Happy now? More reviews please!

I'm unsure about this chapter because it's kinda meant as a segue from one setting to another, but it is needed to progress in the story. I'm assuming you all want it to progress, right? I thought so. I promise, **more smex soon!** Oh, and as an answer to a review I have received: I didn't make Harry tell her it was him _because_ the story is gonna be longer. It's not gonna end here...

* * *

Hermione stepped out of the mens' toilet and quickly put on her sandals, which she had left outside the bathroom with her suitcase. She fumbled with the buckles for a second before deciding to wait until she got back to the waiting area to attach them more securely to her feet. She was more than ready to put as much distance as possible between her and that man. _Harry_. Only once she was safely away from him could she indulge in the self-pity that seemed to want to swallow her whole.

_It's a good thing I'm moving to Hogwarts_, she thought bitterly as she situated herself on a bench near Platform 9 to finish out the remainder of her wait. _I'll never have to see him again. _She unzipped her purse and withdrew her book yet again, but this time with another intention besides reading or disguising glances in a certain someone's direction: To hide her puffy, tear-stained face from the other passengers.

Hermione silently cursed herself for her sensitivity. Even the slightest things set her off. It was no wonder she didn't have many friends back in school. It was no wonder she didn't have _any_ friends _now_. Hermione noted with grim satisfaction that she could count the number of true friends she had ever had in her entire life on one hand.

There was Ginny. And Ron, most of the time. And of course Harry. Neville and Luna had been there for her a time or two, but they were both so full of their own problems that Hermione hesitated to count them as "real" friends. Except for Hokey, a hamster she had had as a child, those were the only people she had ever felt completely comfortable with. And what had happened to them?

Well, naturally, Hokey, being a hamster, didn't have that long a lifespan to begin with, and accidentally stepping on him one day didn't exactly improve his heath. After the night in the Forbidden Forest with Ron, which Hermione refused to think about, she had never really spoken to him again, thereby efficiently ending that seven-year friendship in a matter of minutes. (Though Hermione mostly blamed Ron for the whole ordeal, she still blamed herself a little bit as well for letting her feelings for him carry her away before she was ready.) By avoiding Ron, she avoided Harry, seeing as the two were virtually attached at the hip. Plus, Harry had been gone almost the whole year, never giving Hermione the chance to really explain to him _why_ she couldn't bring herself to tell him what had happened between her and Ron. And Ginny... Well, Hermione wasn't too sure what happened with her. She just assumed it was some fallacy on her part that Ginny had never made the effort to keep in touch with Hermione after they graduated.

Hermione sighed and continued to wallow in misery. She looked at her watch. She still had about 45 minutes of wallowing-time before her train came and she planned on using it to its fullest. As a rule, she usually didn't let herself wallow in misery too often, so this was a real treat...

She shook her head to clear it. Harry had told her once that she focused too much on the negative in life, which she found ironic. Here was Harry Potter, claiming to be such a positive fellow when everyone and their uncle was trying to kill him! It made absolutely no sense to Hermione, but she tried thinking positively for his benefit: He hated seeing her upset.

This is what she tried to do now. She shut her book and laid it face down on the seat next to her. (She had always hated anyone seeing what she was reading ever since Ron had made fun of her for reading "Great Witches and Wizards of England's Past", a 2,567 page edition that described all the exploits of every witch or wizard in England's history from Aesalon, Falco to Zamojski, Ladislaw, just for fun.) Hermione closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. It was hard, but after a few minutes of intense concentration, she had managed a clean slate.

Positives... She wracked her brain for any positive tidbit in her life that might make the day a tad more bearable. Well, for one, she was about to start her new job teaching Arithmancy at Hogwarts, a position she had been after ever since first taking the class her third year. Professor Vector, the man who had taught the class for some 50 years, had finally decided to die and Hermione had jumped at the chance to apply for the job, even halfway through the year. She was insanely happy to be returning to Hogwarts after all these years. After all, the school held more good memories than bad.

Her first year when she met Harry and Ron and the three became a fast triumvirate, even though she and Ron fought all the time. And even then, the three of them were still a force to be reckoned with. And then her second year. Not as good as the first, what with being petrified by the Basilisk for most of the term. Her third year was quite interesting. It was when she discovered that there was more than loathing she felt towards Ron Weasley. Fourth year was overwhelming. First, she was taken to the Yule Ball by _Vicktor Krum _(and even though Ron made such a fuss about it, she still had had a nice time) and then she had to fret over Harry's well-being the remainder of the year. She had hardly had time to do all her school work, but somehow she still managed hers and Harry's at the same time. Hermione's fifth and sixth years weren't so great on the whole. She blocked out the painful memories of losing both Sirius and Dumbledore with just over a year between them and tried to focus on the positives. Sixth year had been the year she had had her first kiss. She smiled at the memory that was so hazy in her mind, she couldn't even remember whom she had kissed. She was fairly sure it wasn't Ron and she seemed to remember that it wasn't even her first boyfriend, whom she dated later in the year and didn't even remember his name... Seventh year was tough. With Harry gone off searching for Horcruxes, Ron and Hermione had let their emotions get the better of them and... She stopped where she was. She was thinking of the positives here.

But once she reached that pivotal point in her life, there _were_ no more positives. Until that morning when she had had sex in the mens' bathroom at King's Cross with a total stranger, who just happened to be named Harry and had dark hair, pale skin, and wore glasses... She started. "Could it really be a coincidence?" she wondered aloud, receiving a few wary glances sent her way by fellow passengers. _I suppose it _could_ just be a coincidence, but that's highly unlikely,_ she concluded the conversation in her head so as not to warrant any more strange looks than she was already getting.

But having decided that the Harry from the bathroom was _her _Harry didn't ease her discomfort. Imagine not seeing your best friend in half a decade and then meeting up for a quickie in a public loo without even recognizing him? Hermione's stomach lurched. She put a hand to her mouth to hold down the bile that would inevitably come spewing forth. After a tense moment and nothing happened, Hermione removed her hand and sat back in her seat, thankful that she had woken up too early that morning to eat a proper breakfast.

And if it was her Harry, had he known it was his Hermione he had his cock shoved in while she propped her leg up on the sink? Had he known it was his Hermione who had got down on her knees and given him a blowjob? Had he known it was his Hermione that he had sent over the edge and back with a mere kiss? Would he believe his Hermione would ever do such a thing?

* * *

Harry wiped his mouth with a small square of toilet paper he tore off the roll in the dispenser. He flushed the toilet with a shaking hand and backed out of the stall, staying on his hands and knees until he had reached the row of sinks. He went for the one Hermione had stood looking at herself so sadly and pulled himself up.

Ignoring the pallid face reflected in the mirror, Harry turned the water on full blast and let it run over his hands. He then made a cup of them and filled them with water, which he then brought to his lips and drank. Most of it spilled and dribbled down onto the floor, mixing with his meager puddle of cum from their encounter. Should he clean it up? Deciding against it, lest he upset his already tender stomach once more, Harry went to the bathroom's anteroom to collect his suitcase and jacket from where he had dropped them.

During the few minutes he had spent retching into the toilet bowl, Harry had determined that it was the guilt that had made him so sick. It was obvious she didn't remember him, or at least didn't remember him at the time, and he didn't want to fool himself by thinking otherwise. And did he really want her to remember him? Harry shook his head. Not after how he had abandoned her after her falling out with Ron. He was never quite sure what exactly had happened between them, but he knew that this was the one fight that their friendship could not overcome. Harry couldn't express the guilt he felt for not being there for her when it was apparent that she needed him the most, but he could only hope that she knew it wasn't because he _chose _to be the "Chosen One". His destiny was chosen for him the moment he was born. He was only a slave to the prophecy.

Harry winced as he opened the door to the bathroom and stepped out into the corridor. His teeth felt gritty and he was sure his breath smelled something awful, but the good news was he didn't plan on kissing anyone else today. He tried to smile a bit as he walked towards the main terminal once more, remembering why he was at the train station in the first place: Harry was to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The last one (nothing of which Harry knew, seeing as most of his seventh year was spent abroad, searching for horcruxes) had lasted quite a bit longer than his predecessors, and had still been the DADA teacher until a month ago when he quit unexpectedly in the middle of the prior term, leaving the position open. As a personal favour to Minerva McGonagall, who remained the Headmistress, Harry had agreed to fill the space, even though half the year was over already. After all, who better to teach the younger generation of witches and wizards about Dark Arts than the man who defeated the greatest dark wizard of all time? Harry smiled absently and rubbed his scar.

Harry found an empty seat at a table in the food court with a good view of Platform 9 and sat down. He had almost 30 minutes before he was to be on the special running of the Hogwarts Express especially arranged for him and another new teacher, also entering mid-way through the year. He let his mind wander away from the acts of that morning and towards his future at Hogwarts. He laughed a bit. And he had thought his adventures at Hogwarts had ended at 17.

* * *

Hermione took a few calming breaths. And then laughed, saying quietly to herself, "You were perfectly fine when it was a stranger, what makes knowing the guy any different?" knowing her answer even as she posed the question.

_It's different because it's _Harry. Her _Harry! _Hermione hid her face in her hands with shame and embarrassment. And he had said he had a _girlfriend_! Was it Ginny... again? The only thing that kept Hermione from getting hysterical was the fact that she would probably never talk to either Harry or Ginny again, so there was no need to worry about having to explain herself or her actions.

With some effort, Hermione tried to push the memory out of her mind, much like she had the memory of the night in the Forbidden Forest with Ron. But unlike that particularly painful memory, _this_ was something that did not want to let go easily. It seemed as though Hermione could still feel her lips against his, still feel his fingers wound in her hair, still feel the warmth of him inside of her, filling some hole in her soul that she never knew was there with his body and his presence. She put a hand to her mouth, but not to stop herself from nearly throwing-up again: To feel her lips where they still tingled long after the kiss.

With a start of recognition, Hermione remembered who her first kiss had been with: Harry.


	6. Escape

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

a/n: Sorry for the wait people!! I think more smex in the next chapter, no? :P

* * *

Hermione found a suitable compartment near the front of the train and sat down, placing her suitcase on the seat next to her. There was no need to tuck it into the overhead bin: She wasn't expecting anyone she needed to save the extra seat for.

Being back on the Hogwarts Express felt surreal. She half expected to see Ron fling open the compartment door complaining that she had left him standing stupidly by the womens' baths holding her purse for twenty minutes until he realized that she had already boarded the train (which she had only done once, but you'd think it was a regular occurrence the way he carried on about it). Or Harry, battling through the sea of people wanting autographs, a pained expression on his face as he pleaded silently for salvation through the window...

Hermione looked towards the door. There was no Ron. There was no Harry. And there never would be again.

She folded her arms and turned towards the window. The train hadn't started moving yet, so she was basically staring at a brick wall. A rather nice and graffiti-free wall at that.

Forgetting the 'Incident in the Bathroom', as she would now call it from henceforth, Hermione focused on the coming months. More specifically, the next few days. Would it be hard to get into the swing of teaching? Would the students like her? Would the school bring back too many unwanted memories? The train shuddered underneath her and let out a hiss of smoke as it began to depart from the station. She didn't even notice as the view from the window flickered to life before her eyes, and soon, the bricks faded into green fields.

There was a commotion out in the hall and a muttered "Oh, shit."

Hermione tore her eyes away from the fields and glanced up toward the door just in time to see a person drop to the floor just beneath the curtained window. Her brow scrunched with curiosity. She stood slowly and made her way to the door and pulled it open a foot. Sticking her head out, Hermione looked down the hallway both ways. She didn't _see _anyone, but as a denizen of the magical world, the fact that she hadn't _seen _anything was hardly proof that there wasn't anything there.

With a shrug, Hermione slid the door shut and returned to her seat, where she resumed staring moodily out the window, her chin resting in her hand as she surveyed the scenery.

* * *

Harry found himself rushing for the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10 though he had thought he had plenty of time to make the train. That's always how it went with him. Harry "Perpetually Late" Potter. Not that anyone actually called him that, but he could tell everyone thought it.

He stopped short just a few feet away from the barrier and approached it hesitantly, remembering his second year when it had closed and he and Ron had just run _into _it instead of _through _it. After a furtive look around him, Harry, thrust his arm through the void. Meeting no resistance, he stepped all the way through confidently.

Once on the other side, he jogged up to the door where the attendant was folding the stepping platform back into the floor of the train. "Wait!" Harry panted as he jumped up into the train, ignoring the attendant's look of disapproval. "Thanks," he said over his shoulder to the other man, who just shook his head.

Out of habit, Harry set his suitcase down in a bin near at the front of the train, as he had done as a student, without a second thought. He moved to the middle of the train, where he and his gang had always sat, placing a hand on the wall to steady himself as the scarlet train gave off an impatient jet of smoke and jolted to a start.

Harry stiffened instinctively as he passed by the compartment that Draco Malfoy and his cronies had claimed for themselves so long ago. He half-expected to see them lounging in there as he passed and hear a smug Malfoy call out his name followed by a barrage of insults, of which, Harry was sure, "faggot" was the least offensive. Gritting his teeth, he forced his eyes to the compartment window, just to prove to himself that there was nothing to fear in that compartment.

True enough, there was no Draco Malfoy sneering back at him from his position of power at the window seat. But there was, however, something to fear in that compartment. Namely, Hermione Granger.

"Oh, shit." Harry said as he dropped to the ground in a combat-style crouch. He heard the floor inside the compartment creak as Hermione stood, presumably to investigate the noise. Harry silently cursed her inquisitive nature as he frantically searched his jacket pocket for his invisibility cloak, thankful that he had planned on tricking Hagrid with it once he arrived at the Hogwart's Station and had stowed it in his pocket for his convenience. (Harry had originally planned on appearing on the platform as a floating head. Not his best trick, but one that was sure to surprise.)

With a flourish, he pulled the gauzy material from his jacket and threw it over himself just as Hermione's head appeared in the doorway. Harry held his breath and stared up at her as she looked up and down the corridor. _Please, don't come out_, he pleaded silently, hoping to convince her to ignore her innate curiosity telepathically. With a shrug of her shoulders, her head retreated back into the compartment and the door slid shut behind her.

Harry exhaled loudly and with relief, but remained under the cloak until he had counted to fifty, very slowly. It was not above Hermione to re-investigate a strange noise even after she had confirmed its source for herself. Assuming he was safe, Harry pulled the cloak from his back and shoved it into his pocket, not bothering to fold it first. He crawled on his hands and knees until he was a few compartments down from hers, then scrambled to his feet in a clumsy run for the nearest door.

Sliding the door open, Harry slipped in and shut the door in one motion, locking it securely behind him. He rested his back against the door for a moment and took a calming breath, grateful that Hermione hadn't seen him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the curtains on the window that looked out into the corridor were wide open. With a strangled gasp of frustration, he wrenched them shut, popping a few stitches in his haste.

Harry backed away from the door and sat down at the window. He shook his head and stared at the floor. "What's she doing _here_?"

* * *

Hermione hadn't realized she had fallen asleep until she awoke as the train shuddered to a halt. She blinked and looked about in that way that people do when they're not quite sure what happened, all they know is that the time has passed while they weren't paying attention.

With a yawn, Hermione looked towards the compartment door. She vaguely recalled having heard noises out in the corridor, but she thought that that might have just been a dream. Hermione was known to have dreams that seemed so real upon waking, it had taken her a good hour to convince herself that they had been dreams. The "Incident in the Bathroom" pushed its way to the forefront of her thoughts and Hermione tried telling herself it had been a dream, but as she stood and felt the dull, throbbing pain in her groin from hoisting her leg up on the sink and having someone (she refused to say it was Harry, _her _Harry) ram his cock into her, she knew it wasn't. Hermione sighed in defeat and preformed a quick healing spell (wand-less magic, of course) so that she could walk straight.

* * *

Harry had planned on catching up on sleep while on his way to Hogwarts, but instead he stood vigil by the compartment door for most of the trip, trying _not _to fall asleep.

He sighed in relief as he felt the train begin to slow and slid down the wall into a sitting position, his legs splayed out before him. Now he had a new problem: How to get off the train without her seeing him. There also was the problem of avoiding her while at Hogwarts, but luckily for him, he still had the Marauder's Map, even after all these years.

There was always the invisibility cloak, but Harry had long since outgrown it (Harry being a good three inches taller than his father, the cloak's previous owner, had been), and a pair of grubby trainers walking around of their own accord would surely arouse Hermione's suspicions. His only other option was just to walk out and pray that she didn't see him...

* * *

Hermione stepped onto the platform at Hogwart's Station and breathed deeply, savoring the familiar scent. Everything was the same as it had been five years ago, give or take a few hundred scrambling students. She was surprised, but unsure why. Maybe it was because she knew how much things could change in just five years. How much a _person_ could change in just five years.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Hagrid lumbering along the platform in her direction and gave him a vigorous wave with her whole arm and smiled brightly. Happiness surged through her, and despite recent... events, Hermione was at ease.

"'Ermione!" Hagrid boomed jubilantly as he waved back to Hermione. "And Harry as well?" he chuckled and shook his huge head. "All we need is Ron and it would be a proper reunion!"

Hermione stiffened.

* * *

Harry stiffened. So much for not being noticed. Harry had thought that exiting the train through the caboose was a surefire escape route.

_Big Oaf! _Harry thought bitterly as he attempted a smile and waved back to Hagrid half-heartedly.

Hermione turned slowly, his name on her lips. "Harry." It wasn't a question: It was an accusation. Her smile fell, leaving her face pallid and shrunken, her eyes aflame.

"What are you doing_ here_?" she whispered to him through clenched teeth.

He didn't have time to answer her, only to grimace and mumble a quick, "Hey, 'Mione," before Hagrid scooped both of them up into a spinal cord-breaking hug, Harry under his left arm and Hermione under the right, their faces just inches away. Harry gave her a small smile which she returned with a scowl and a failed attempt to fold her arms indignantly because of Hagrid's hold on her chest. Harry's smile turned into a frown.

"How've you two been, eh?" Hagrid asked, shaking them slightly before releasing them. "Been seein' a lot of each other?"

Hermione cut her eyes over to Harry and answered Hagrid in an even, if somewhat exasperated tone. "Not so much lately, no. In fact, today was the first day in about five years." She turned to Harry, her hands on her shapely hips (Harry wondered silently when she had gotten those because she sure as hell hadn't had them in school) and glared at him. "Isn't that right, Harry?" Harry scratched his ear and looked off into the distance to his right.

Hagrid, oblivious to the tangible tension between the two, slapped a gargantuan hand to his forehead. "_Five _years? Why, that's... You mean ter tell me that you haven't spoken since you left school?" He looked from Hermione to Harry then back to Hermione, a concerned look on his ruddy face.

Hermione nodded. "That's right. We... lost touch." She inclined her head in Harry's direction and gave Hagrid a trite smile.

Hagrid was silent for a contemplative moment. "Well, tha's a shame," he grumbled morosely. "I hope you got a chance to catch up on the train, at least."

Harry nodded absently. "And at the station-Oof!" Hermione cut him off with a hard jab to the ribs with one of her pointy elbows.

As Harry rubbed his sore chest and glowered at Hermione, Hagrid tried desperately to change the subject. "Well, 'Ermione, I'll take yer luggage." He held out a grimy hand. Hermione obliged and handed him her suitcase. "And Harry...?"

Harry cleared his throat. "I, erm, left it on the train... Old habits die hard I suppose," he said with a shrug and the briefest of glances in Hermione's direction. She hadn't noticed though, she was too busy trying not to look at him and for the moment was occupying herself with an interesting leaf on the ground in front of her.

"Ah, very well. It should be up in yer room when we get there, I suspect." Hagrid turned and motioned for them to follow him as he began at a lumbering pace down the platform. Harry and Hermione scrambled to a half-jog to keep up with him. "There's a coach waiting fer you."

"Great," Harry mumbled to himself.


	7. Home

a/n: I went back and added just a bit more to the end of the last chapter, so you should go back and read that before reading this, otherwise, you might get confused. (It's really not that much, just a few paragraphs.) Thanks for all the reviews so far, but I always love more! And happy birthday to hanyouinlove! (I know, I'm late, I'm sorry!!) And another thing. If you aren't offended by slash (HPDM), please read (and review) my other story **Chains That Bind**. It needs some love. (And by love, I mean reviews, of course.)

Without further adieu, let's get on with the story, shall we? (It's fluffeh!)

* * *

Hermione declined Harry's offered hand and hoisted herself up into the carriage by herself, holding down her skirt with one hand. _Just because Harry has already seen me naked doesn't mean he gets a free pass to look at my arse any time he pleases,_ she thought gruffly.

She sat down on one of the padded seats (which, thankfully, was heated. She hadn't given much thought to the temperature difference between London and here when dressing that morning.) and scooted as far to one side as she possibly could. Harry climbed up and sat down next to her, his leg brushing against hers and making her shiver, goosebumps erupting on her skin. She pretended it was the cold, pulled her jacket closed tighter around her, and shoved her hands into her pockets.

"Well," Hagrid began as he shut the carriage door loudly, "I'll be seein' you up at the castle. Minerva's planned a big dinner in honor of yer return."

Harry nodded solemnly, but Hermione was able to manage a quiet, "Thanks," before the carriage rocked into an ungraceful start down the uneven road and Hagrid was lost behind them.

Harry sighed and leaned back in his seat, not attempting to make conversation, for which Hermione was grateful. At least their years apart hadn't effected his uncanny ability to read her body language. He rested his arm against the side of the carriage, trying to look casual, but the tired and worried look in his emerald eyes was a dead giveaway to how he really felt. He stared blankly before him, to the front of the carriage at, Hermione could only assume, the two Thestrals that pulled it...

She followed his gaze and with a start, she realized that she could see them too. Great, winged beasts with spindly legs and ribcages that protruded from their black skin. She swallowed nervously as her eyes roamed over their knobby, horse-like bodies, as they led the carriage up the twisting road. Hermione shuddered to think that she had ridden one of these creatures without hesitation her fifth year when they had all gone to the Ministry to save Sirius. But of course, at that time, she couldn't see them...

"Strange, aren't they," Harry said quietly, more as an observation than a question.

Hermione nodded, too entranced by the Thestrals to be mad at Harry for thinking he had the right to talk to her after what he had done. _Or not done,_ she thought.

"This your first time seeing them?" He turned towards her.

Hermione blushed slightly at the attention, but didn't meet his gaze. Instead she looked down at her feet and answered, "Yeah. I guess... the war..." She fell silent. Harry looked away and cleared his throat. Hermione instantly regretted bringing that up. Obviously the wounds were still fresh.

"Why are you talking to me?" she asked him abruptly, but gently at the same time.

He shrugged and tossed his messy black hair. "I'm not allowed to talk to you?"

Hermione exhaled loudly through her nose. "No, as a matter of fact, you're not." She turned away so she couldn't accidentally look at him, but she felt his eyes boring into her back and could imagine him studying her, a small frown of confusion on his angelic face.

"Why?" he asked. She could hear the smile in the lilt of his voice. Harry always _had _liked getting on her very last nerve, even when she had first met him as a bushy-haired eleven-year-old who knew too much for her own good.

"Because," Hermione answered. She didn't really have a better reason, she just didn't want him to talk to her because that would mean she would have to talk to him and she didn't trust herself enough to do that without attacking his face with lust.

The carriage shifted suddenly and Harry was beside her, his chest pressed against her back so close she could almost feel his heart beating. Hermione refused to acknowledge the fact that he fit to her shape perfectly, like a missing piece to a puzzle. "Because you don't want to admit to yourself that you fucked a total stranger in a public loo?" he whispered, his hot breath stinging her exposed neck. He leaned his head down to her and brushed his lips against her skin. Hermione could feel the smirk on them as they traveled to her jawbone.

"N-no," she stammered her teeth chattering and her hands clenching, winding the fabric of her pockets about her fingers and squishing a few lint balls to smithereens.

"Oh... Then you don't want to admit to yourself that you fucked your _best friend_ in a public loo? Is that what it is?" he hissed.

Hermione turned, withdrew her hand from her pocket, and smacked him soundly across the face.

* * *

Harry rubbed his cheek where she had hit him and stared at her. Not with anger, but with relief. She had done exactly what he had wanted and expected her to do: Punish him. He did feel a small twinge of guilt at what he had just said, but she needed that to spur her anger. She never would have hit him otherwise, and he really needed her to hit him before he could do something much worse to himself.

He slid back over to his side of the bench and stared out at the trees as they whizzed past him, his thoughts mercifully blank with the sting of her slap.

"I'm sorry," Hermione choked. Harry could tell she was crying and a new wave of guilt hit him in the chest like a Cruciatus curse. He felt his stomach tightening and fought the urge to take her up in his arms and snogg the living daylights out of her.

Instead, he stayed where he was in his seat and shook his head. "Don't be. I deserved that."

"Not for hitting you!" she spat.

Harry turned to her, his eyebrows raised in confusion under his messy fringe. "For that then? What do _you_ have to be sorry for?" he asked her, a little too harshly, he realized too late.

She cried silently for a while, her tears patting softly on her jacket collar, then continued somewhat meekly, "I... didn't recognize you... I should have. I'm sorry I made you do... that." She hiccuped and covered her mouth with the back of her hand. "I feel so..." -she hiccuped again- "_guilty_," she concluded forcefully.

"You didn't _make _me do anything!" Harry grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her, her hair flying everywhere as she looked up at him with her shimmering brown eyes. "Don't you see? How can you be so smart but so _stupid _at the same time?" He was rambling now, letting everything he ever wanted to tell her slip out of his mouth before he had the time to censor himself. "I _knew _it was you from the moment I kissed you, but I let you continue thinking it was a stranger because I was afraid if you knew it was me, you'd stop before I had the chance to..."

Her mouth fell open, then snapped shut. "'The chance to'...?" she prompted him after a few moments of silence. Merlin, he was virtually pouring his soul out for her, and she was _still_ pushy! It almost comforted him to know that even when she was upset, she was pretty much unflappable.

"You're all I've ever wanted," Harry finished lamely, completely ignoring his unfinished statement, just to keep her curious. He held her for a few more seconds, then released her. That was a new revelation for him, but as soon as he had said it, he knew it was true. His hands were shaking, so he moved to put them in his pockets before she could notice. She stopped him by putting her hand on his wrist and moving down until her cold hand was wrapped in his warm one, their fingers woven together.

"I had no idea, Harry," she said quietly as she scooted over to lean her head on his arm. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

He sighed and ran his free hand through his hair. "You had Ron. He was a much safer choice, so I let you chose him."

Hermione laughed once, bitterly. "But I didn't know I had other options." She shifted to kiss him on the cheek, her tears frigid against his skin, then repositioned herself so that she was fitted against his side perfectly, a missing piece to a puzzle.

"Am I forgiven then?" Harry asked tentatively, resting his chin on the top of her head and stroking her fingers lightly with his own.

She shrugged and gave him a smug smile. "We'll see..."

* * *

Hermione had let him help her from the carriage without hesitation this time, letting him grab her about the waist and lift her down swiftly and even allowed him to escort her to the castle doors, but once they reached the front steps, she released her hold on his hand.

"I'd rather not start the year like this," she said to him simply, hoping he would get the hint.

"Like what?" Hermione couldn't tell if he was pretending not to know what she meant, or if he really was that dense. But then again, she always _had_ had to spell things out for him...

"Like... _this_!" She gestured back and forth between them wildly with both hands.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're just being silly," he told her. "You're a teacher, not a student. No one's going to write anything nasty about you on the bathroom walls."

It was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes. "That's not exactly what I meant. All I'm trying to say is that _we_ can't happen right now. It's too much at one time."

Harry nodded his head slowly and contemplatively, his lips poked out in a small pout that almost made Hermione recant her previous statement, but she just barely managed to hold her ground. He shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed sadly. "I can't change your mind?"

She shook her head resolutely. "No, I'm pretty sure about this."

"Only 'pretty sure'?" A small amused smile curled at the corners of his mouth.

Hermione thought a moment. "No. I'm positive."

Harry took a step towards her, forcing her to back up against the stone wall of the archway, and put his hand on the wall next to her head, leaning all his weight towards her. "Is it just the whole 'relationship' deal you don't want? Because... we don't have to have that, you know." He smirked and pressed into her a little, making her breath catch when she felt his erection on her thigh. She was instantly reminded of their meeting at the train station before they... Hermione urging her mind to draw a blank.

She opened her mouth to agree, but then thought better of it and shut it with a loud exhale. "Are you sure you could handle it, Harry?" she asked him quietly, putting her hand on his chest. "If I wasn't exclusively _yours_?"

His smile fell ever so slightly as he seemed to think honestly about her question. "Yes," he finally answered. "I'm positive."

"That's all I needed to hear," Hermione said before his lips crashed unceremoniously down on hers. She opened her mouth to allow him access and relished in the sweet taste of his tongue. Winding one hand in his raven hair, she reached down to unbutton his pants. She needed him right now like she needed her next breath. But instead of feeling his boxers, she felt his hand as he pulled it away from his body and broke the kiss.

"Not now," he said breathlessly. "They're waiting for us inside." He turned towards the door and gave it two sharp knocks with his knuckles. "Besides," he began as he turned to look over his shoulder at her, "it's much too cold outside."

The great doors swung open and a wave of heat hit Hermione straight in the face. She could practically feel her hair getting frizzier by the second from the humidity and frowned. All her efforts to conquer her hair would be foiled after all...

"Welcome back," said Minerva McGonagall. She stood just inside the doors, her hands folded primly before her and a warm smile on her face that Harry and Hermione had rarely ever seen as students.

Harry beamed and stepped inside, Hermione following blindly behind him.

* * *

Harry felt like he was home at last, after years of wandering aimlessly from place to place and never quite fitting in. From the moment he stepped foot in that castle as a boy of eleven, he had known he wanted to spend the rest of his life here. At the time, he hadn't even considered teaching at Hogwarts, he had just planned on repeating every grade at least twice and seeing where it went from there.

"Professor," Harry greeted McGonagall as he held out his hand for her to shake.

She waved it away and took him up in her skinny arms, Harry more that a little surprised at her seemingly sudden change in attitude. "There's no need for that," she said to him as she rubbed his back. McGonagall pulled away and held Harry at arm's length. "You may call me Minerva now. If you recall, you are a professor as well, Harry." She eyed him smugly from over her round glasses. He gave her a sheepish smile.

"And Hermione!" McGonagall called joyously, seeing the other woman standing awkwardly by the door, trying desperately to smooth her hair down with her hands. She floated over to her and embraced her as well, Hermione muttering, "Minerva," in return. At least for Harry, this "call me Minerva" thing was going to take some getting used to.

"Well, now that you're here," McGonagall began once she had released Hermione and straightened her olive green robe, "the feast can begin." She turned and gestured for Harry and Hermione to follow her to the doors into the Great Hall, then stopped and looked over her shoulder at the two standing side by side, their hands almost touching. "I must say it took you an _awfully _long time to get up here. I wouldn't be surprised if the children hadn't began eating already."

Harry blushed a soft pink color and glanced sideways at Hermione, who had gone completely pale, most likely nervous at the prospect of looking like a complete git in front of her future students, if anything Harry had known about her still applied today. He brushed her hand with the back of his. "It's okay," he told her as McGonagall pushed the doors open.

A hundred eager faces peered out at them (the Slytherin table was more or less leering as a whole), highlighted by the soft glow of thousands of floating candles. Harry smiled. Hermione looked like she might throw up.

_Welcome home_, he thought as he stepped over the threshold, Hermione close at his side.

* * *

another a/n: I promise, more smex in the next chapter. You can hold me to that! (I just get so caught up in the fluff, sometimes it's hard to find my way out!) But this was actually a very important chapter to have, seeing as it sets up every other chapter. Remember to review, it makes me update sooner!!


	8. Reappearances

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, it would be a lot dirtier...

a/n: Well, here it is! Be lovely and review! (Maybe with this chapter I'll be up to 80+ reviews... *hint hint*!!) This is a pretty long chapter because I had promised there would be more smex in this one, so I had to include it in there somewhere. Oh! And I'm adding another character who is of my own creation (that means I OWN HIM!!!). Casper Beckford is a 7th year in Gryffindor, but you'll learn even more about him later, dear reader... ANNNND someone makes a surprise reappearance... **REVISED CHAPTER!!!!**

Anyway, read and review please!!

* * *

Hermione felt kind of embarrassed for Harry, seeing as he didn't have the capacity to feel embarrassed for himself, just to smile stupidly while the whole room gawked at him. But then again, he was probably used to being stared at, even though it probably didn't happen as often as it once did.

"It's _Harry Potter_!" whispered a skinny Hufflepuff girl excitedly as she jabbed one of her table mates in the ribs. The other girl adjusted her glasses and stared at Harry as if she were trying to make his head explode. "Is it?" A third student, a boy at the table to their backs, stood and said loudly, "That_ is_ Harry Potter! _The _Harry Potter!" Soon enough, Harry's name was a collective whisper as kids leaned across their tables and stood on their seats to get a better look at "_The _Harry Potter."

Harry's cheeks flushed pink and he looked around sheepishly, that stupid grin still plastered to his face. Hermione managed to give a weak smile in the direction of the Gryffindor table as she fought the sudden urge to either grab onto Harry's shirt sleeve or run, screaming, out of the room. Certainly_ she_ hadn't been this intimidating as a teenager...

Her brown eyes met the dusky blue ones of a dark-haired Gryffindor smiling at the far end of the table, his arms folded across his chest and his robes casually disheveled. He leaned back in his seat, tossing the stray hairs out of his eyes, trying by all appearances, to give off an air of aloofness that he obviously thought was so attractive in males, and widened his smile. His eyebrows disappeared in his messy fringe and he licked his lips slowly and deliberately. Hermione gave a small snort of contempt and straightened up. _There is nothing to fear here but immaturity,_ she reasoned with herself as she followed after Harry and McGonagall down the aisle to the teachers' table at the front of the room, making sure to keep her eyes firmly trained on Harry's back, and not his arse.

McGonagall took her post at the front of the Great Hall behind the podium and smiled as she looked out over the students. Harry went and stood on her left, so, in fear of looking too attached to him, Hermione went to stand on McGonagall's right, a suitable distance away from Harry. If there were going to be rumors, they wouldn't start flying on her first night if she could help it.

"Good evening, students and staff." The room reluctantly fell silent at the sound of McGonagall's voice, except for the Slytherin table, who were, of course, sneering, snickering, making rude jokes at Harry's expense, or some combination of all three. Harry appeared to either not notice or not care, but if Hermione knew anything about Harry, her best guess would be the former: He never was too observant.

McGonagall sent her best glacial stare in the direction of the Slytherins who contented themselves with glowering in silence. "We are all here to welcome Mr. Potter and Miss Granger back to Hogwarts. They will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts and Arithmancy, respectively." At the mention of "Dark Arts", Hermione cast Harry a worried glance that he accepted with a nod of calm reassurance. _Well, if he thinks he can handle it..._ she thought to herself sadly.

"-will begin tomorrow," McGonagall was saying. "I trust you _all_"-she looked pointedly at the Slytherin table-"will welcome them graciously... Now, let's begin the celebration!"

Food appeared on the tables and _The _Harry Potter was mercifully ignored for the moment in favour of roasted beef and potatoes. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief for him and followed after McGonagall to the teacher's table, subtly making a motion for Harry to follow along after her to the two vacant chairs at the far left end of the table, away from all the other Professors and a safe distance away from the students, who still made Hermione nervous, even if they were otherwise occupied for the moment.

As they passed by, Hermione made a mental note of which professors she knew:

There were Professors Sprout and Flitwick and Madam Pomfrey, who had always liked Hermione; Filch the caretaker, who probably would have liked Hermione if he had liked people at all (She wondered absently if Mrs. Norris was sulking around under the table somewhere...); Hagrid, who beamed at her and Harry as they passed; Madam Prince the librarian gave her a curt nod; and even Professor Trelawney gave her a vague wave (Hermione saw Harry roll his eyes). Besides McGonagall, those were the only people that she recognized.

There was a small, red-haired witch seated next to Filch who was looking down into her goblet as though a tentacle might shoot out of it at any moment (and for all Hermione knew, one very well could) and a broad-shouldered man with pale hair slumped over the armrest of his chair, his face mostly covered by his hand as if he were sleeping.

They reached the end of the long table and Harry began to pull a chair out for her, but Hermione slapped his hands away, glaring at him out of the corner of her eye. He cleared his throat and pulled out his own chair and sat down heavily on the maroon cushion. Fighting a smile, Hermione sat down next to him and unfolded her napkin, placing it primly in her lap.

He covered his mouth and leaned over towards Hermione, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair. "This is harder than I thought," he said quietly out the side of his hand. Hermione shrugged and grabbed the goblet in front of her, gagging when she realized it wasn't pumpkin juice, but wine. Harry kept his eyes straight forward, but Hermione thought he was laughing.

* * *

Harry wasn't surprised when the sadness hit him like a hard punch to the head, leaving him pale and fighting for breath. He closed his eyes briefly against the happy scene and remembered a more grim one...

Bodies lined the floor of the hall in orderly rows that stretched from the doors to the front of the room and then back again. There were Lupin and Tonks, side by side, both still looking troubled even in death. And Fred, surrounded by his family, Hermione hugging Ron in spite of herself. Ron's face was hidden in Hermione's shoulder, but Harry could read the look on her face quite plainly as she stared at him with teary, but relieved, eyes. She had stopped crying, but there were white streaks left by shed tears on her grimy face. Harry opened his mouth to say something to her, but was interrupted when Ginny rammed into his chest and flung her skinny arms around his waist, soaking his shirt with her tears. _"You're alive! I'm so happy you're alive! Harry... I love you..." _

And he had pushed her away...

"Are you going to eat anything or not?" Hermione asked him, pulling him up and out of his sudden depression.

"Huh? Oh... no, I don't think so. Not very hungry..." He put his fork down on the edge of his plate and sat back in his chair, his hands folded in what appeared to be a nonchalant manner, but if you looked really closely, you could tell they were shaking. Harry glared down at them and cursed his nerves for appearing so suddenly and was about to hide his hands in his pockets when Hermione suddenly grabbed them both and held them tightly with her left hand, still cutting food with her fork in her right hand as if nothing were happening.

"Don't look at me like that," she chided him softly out of the corner of her mouth. Harry, who hadn't realized he had been looking at her in a suspicious way, faced forward and clamped his mouth shut. He stiffly watched the students eat, not even flinching as Hermione shifted her hand so that it rested on his crotch. She smiled a little as she took a dainty bite of roasted potato.

* * *

Hermione was surprised to find that her and Harry's rooms were right across the hall from one another. It would have been wrong to say that she was _pleasantly _surprised about it, but she wasn't horrified at the idea of having Harry close enough to keep tabs on her at all times either. She's thought it was annoying back in school, but after five years of no one giving a rat's arse about you except, on occasion, your cat, Hermione thought she might like the extra attention.

"No passwords for these locks, just tap them with your wand," McGonagall explained as she stood next to one of the wooden doors that lined the hallway on both sides, her hand resting on the magicked brass doorknob. "This room is yours Hermione, Harry, you're across the hall." She gestured to another door. "Sorry about the close confines. We've had to do a bit of expanding, enlarging the student dorms and such, so there's not very much extra room for the teachers, I'm afraid."

Hermione smiled and gave the headmistress a small shrug. "It's alright," she assured her. "I think we'll manage just fine." She gave Harry an imperceptible wink that she wasn't even sure he saw.

"What about all the other rooms on this hall?" Harry asked, looking at the rest of the doors a smile of confusion curling at the corners of his mouth that Hermione found absolutely irresistible.

McGonagall sighed, but Hermione was the one to answer his question. "They're not doors, they're illusions so people won't be able to find the real doors to our quarters." She rolled her eyes, and for a second, Hermione actually felt as though they were back in school and she was reciting passages from "Hogwarts, A History" just to piss Ron off and make her look superior...

_Ron..._ Hermione swallowed back the memories and focused on Harry. The subtle tilt of his head as he registered her answer, the faint blushing of his pale skin as he realized what a dumb question he had asked, how he shuffled his left foot to draw attention away from all his other tells.

"Precisely," McGonagall said with a nod. "Well, I must see that the curfew is enforced. Good night, you two." She smiled and then turned and walked briskly down the opposite end of the hall, her jade green robes swirling behind her.

Hermione exhaled and looked up at Harry, blushing when she realized that this was the first time they were legitimately alone together and wondered if he had thought the same thing as he shifted uncomfortably and stared down at her, seemingly torn between saying goodnight and ripping her clothes off. "Well..." she bit her lip. "Goodnight... I guess..."

Hermione was about to draw her wand from her pocket to unlock the door, but Harry grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a rough kiss, hard enough to bruise her lips. Hermione stiffened in surprise, but relaxed quickly and wrapped her arms around Harry's neck, trying to pull him closer to her, if at all possible. In her desperation, she accidentally knocked Harry's glasses to the floor, where they skittered away to some unknown destination.

Harry pulled back, straining against the force of Hermione's hands on the back of his head and smiled. "Shall we take this inside?" Hermione smiled in response and Harry began fumbling in his pocket for his wand.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Hermione groaned in aggravation as he jammed her hand into Harry's pants pocket, feeling around for his wand. She brushed her hand up against his hard cock and smiled to herself as Harry let out a quiet hiss. She withdrew the wand and shoved it into Harry's hand. "There, now do it!"

Harry gave her a smile and reached back to tap the doorknob lightly with the tip of his wand. The door flew open and Hermione was on him, causing Harry to fall back into the room and the heavy door to slam shut behind them, hopefully muffling their cries and the crash as a candelabra fell off Harry's bedside table.

* * *

Harry wasted no time in stripping Hermione down by hand; Hermione wasted no time in stripping Harry down with a spell cast by his own discarded wand. He shivered at the sudden temperature change and grinned at Hermione. She smiled back, her chest heaving and tossed the wand over her shoulder. It was almost like being teenagers again, the lightness of it all.

He took her face in his hands and placed his mouth on top of hers, softer this time: He knew she wasn't going anywhere. His dick pressed uncomfortably into her hipbone and she laughed a bit out of the side of her mouth as Harry moaned.

Harry broke the kiss to pick Hermione up as if he were a groom carrying the bride over the threshold and threw her unceremoniously onto his large, four-poster bed. She arranged herself on her back as Harry crawled on top of her like some predatory beast, all the while enamored with how pretty and innocent she looked, even as she lay naked and sprawled out on his bed.

Hermione's arms linked around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss, but Harry wasn't letting her control the situation. Too long had he stood by and let Hermione Granger take command. It was his turn to make her squirm.

With a smirk, Harry moved and trailed his lips down her neck, giving her a sharp nip on her collarbone. Hermione cried out and Harry pulled back, surprised that he had done that so forcefully. "Do you want me to stop?"

She shook her head fiercely. "Keep going, please," she whispered.

Harry chuckled. It was so like Hermione to be polite during sex.

He continued kissing his way down her body, watching her fingers clench and unclench around a tangle of his navy blue comforter. They grew still as Harry slowly dipped his tongue into her moist slit and then tightened violently as her back arched and she bucked into his touch.

"Oh, Merlin, Harry!" she moaned as he alternately teased her clit and fucked her with his tongue. Harry backed away once he felt he had brought her close enough and Hermione lay panting and staring up at him with hungry eyes.

"Please, Harry!" she cried. His cock gave an impatient twitch for release. Harry had always loved hearing her say his name, but her screaming it in desperate pleasure was something else entirely. She released her stranglehold on the comforter and wound her fingers in his hair. Harry didn't fight her when he felt her strong arms yanking him into another kiss, the taste of her heavy on his lips.

As soon as Harry had let his guard down, Hermione expertly pulled him down on top of her and then rolled over so that she was now straddling him, her dripping pussy just inches away from his throbbing length. Harry wondered how she had managed to do that without him even noticing that she now had the upper hand until it was too late for hi to do anything about it.

Harry's confusion soon disappeared as she took his dick in one hand and gently guided Harry into her. His mind went blank. All he could do was watch in rapture as her eyes glazed over with pleasure and she began a rhythmic grinding on his dick, which Harry matched with his own upwards thrusts that pulled him almost all the way out and then slammed them together again. Harry was too far gone to try and assume control again, so he just let her ride him.

Suddenly, she fell forward, covering Harry with her sweat-glistened body, and ground her clit against the base of his dick as she came. She opened her mouth and let out the most beautiful and arousing sound Harry had ever heard in his entire life. He could feel hot streams of her juice run down his balls and knew he couldn't last much longer. With a final thrust upwards, Harry finished off, cumming deep inside her. Hermione bit down hard on his chest to stifle another scream and then was still.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was walking along the second floor corridor on his way to his quarters in the dungeons when he thought he heard a crash and someone cry out. He stopped in his tracks and looked up and down the door-lined hallway with curiosity. He shrugged and was just about to continue when a glint of something on the floor caught his eye.

Making his way over to it, he discovered it to be a pair of black-framed glasses. With a frown of intrigue, he popped the glasses into his robe pocket and continued on his way, ignoring the noises from behind the doors with an amused smirk.


	9. Clean

A/n: I went back and edited the very end of the last chapter, so be sure you've re-read that. Sorry this is taking me so long to get through, but it's considerably harder than some of my others because I'm writing off the top of my head. I solemnly swear to have another chapter up soon. (Maybe even next week if I clear 100 reviews.... Who knows?)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

Hermione awoke the next morning not knowing where she was. And she wasn't wearing anything but her underwear. Perfect.

She sat up in the unfamiliar bed and looked at the deeply breathing figure beside her. A tuft of black hair poked out from above the covers and she could just make out an outline that she knew to be Harry's between two pillows, his troubled face peaceful in slumber. He was even smiling a little, but that might have just been a glowing aftereffect of the night before.

Hermione watched him sleep, her arms folded and resting on her knees, thinking about him. Harry's face as he climaxed was particularly enrapturing if she recalled correctly. Just remembering the way his eyelids fluttered was almost enough to convince Hermione to wake him up for round two (or three, depending on how you looked at it, Hermione reasoned). The whole night blurred together fantastically in her mind and Hermione reluctantly released a sigh of content that sounded too loud in the otherwise quiet room.

A nagging feeling interrupted Hermione's thoughts. In all honesty, she was a bit surprised that Harry was still there at all. And it bothered her. Hermione decided not to think about it too much. That's how she had gotten into trouble with her subconscious the day before. It was, after all, his room. Maybe he wouldn't have stayed the night if they had done it in her room…

As quietly as she could so as not to disturb Harry, Hermione slipped out from between the sheets and stood on wobbly legs. Merlin, she had forgotten what the morning after sex felt like! A quick healing charm and she felt much better. She cast a contraceptive charm too, just for good measure, a trick taught to her by Ginny. Hermione cringed at the thought of Harry and Ginny...

Stretching, Hermione made her way to the bathroom, almost tripping on one of Harry's shoes on the way, but catching herself just in time on an armchair. She looked back over her shoulder to see if she had woken him, but his deep breathing continued evenly.

Hermione straightened up slowly and made her way back over to Harry's side of the bed. Before she even knew what she was doing, her fingers were softly brushing Harry's unruly dark locks, and leaned down without a second thought to place her lips against his hair, inhaling the scent that she knew so well and had missed so long without even realizing it.

Guilt panged at Hermione's heart, and she pulled away quickly. He was her best friend and a good fuck, but nothing more. She couldn't afford to be in love with anyone, couldn't _let_ herself be in love with anyone. Memories of how she felt about Ron before everything had fallen apart entered into her head unbidden. She had taken a risk and had actually ended up in love with the prick, something she was finally ready to admit.

Sex and friendship were an unlikely duo. Harry was much too important to lose like she had lost Ron. Ron had been an infatuation since the start. Hermione had never once in all her years of knowing him wanted friendship from him. Harry was different. Hermione could only hope that he'd see that and feel the same.

Maybe sex was the problem. Hermione banished the thought almost as soon as it popped into her head. There were numerous other ways in which their newly rediscovered and already tenuous relationship could backfire just as easily as what she and Ron might have had was dashed by one night of particularly lethal sexual tension.

Turning resolutely away from the sleeping form of her most recent conquest, Hermione walked into the bathroom and shut the door firmly.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes as soon as he heard the water running in the next room. The lingering trace of Hermione's presence against his body was slowly dissipating, but the light touch of her hands as she explored his body remained, her fingers curled in his hair, her hot breath against his ear, the tightening feeling in his groin. _Are you sure you could handle it, Harry? If I wasn't exclusively yours?_

He almost snorted as her words from the day before came back to him. She was really full of herself, wasn't she? Assuming that Harry was the weaker one in their relationship because he had seen one two many close friends die or because he had given in to her? That was a new low, even for Hermione Granger, Queen of Unfounded Accusations. The whole idea was laughable, at best.

Of course Harry wanted her body, that was much too evident for him to even _attempt _to deny. But after having her willingly throw herself on him, Harry Potter, not some stranger in a public loo, Harry wasn't so sure what exactly he wanted from her.

He had told her yesterday that he wanted more than her body. He wanted her friendship, her comfort. He wanted _her_. But Harry wasn't sure if that was just residual feelings left over from their childhood or pent up sexual frustration at not having a decent fuck in a while.

But last night had changed things, and Harry didn't know what he wanted anymore.

_Well, there's only one way to find out_, Harry reasoned as he slipped out of bed hoping he wouldn't regret his decision later.

* * *

Hermione had been happily letting the warm water wash away all traces Harry had left of himself on her skin, when she heard the bathroom door open and close. She opened her eyes, immediately alert, and strained her ears, listening closely. A shadow appeared against the shower curtain.

"Harry?" she called out uncertainly.

A pale hand snaked its way inside the shower and pulled the curtain aside, water splashing on the white tiled bathroom floor. Harry stepped into the shower, his eyes lowered in an unnecessary show of modesty that suddenly made Hermione feel very exposed, which seemed silly considering Harry had seen her naked just a few hours ago.

Hermione's eyes flickered downward and her cheeks flushed red when she saw his arousal and looked back up to his face as if nothing was amiss, her eyes lingering on the purple bite mark she had left on his chest. "What are you doing?" she asked tersely.

Harry shrugged. "Taking a shower. No sense in wasting water by going about it separately." He turned to grasp the bar of soap in the dish on the wall, giving Hermione ample time to marvel at how tight his arse was. She licked her lips, her resolve weakening slightly. "What are you playing at, Harry? Since when have you cared about water conservation?"

He shrugged again and went to work rubbing the soap across his chest, covering it in a foamy lather, and avoiding Hermione's eyes.

Hermione had already washed and rinsed before Harry's entrance, but she remained trapped, standing awkwardly between Harry and the water gushing from the showerhead, trying to ignore the fact that he was naked and wasn't touching her. That alone seemed to make the whole experience even more uncomfortable than Hermione could have imagined.

"Excuse me," Harry mumbled, inching past her in the cramped bath to get closer to the water. His cock brushed against Hermione's skin and Harry breathed in sharply and dropped the bar of soap. It hit the floor of the bath loudly and slid into Hermione's foot, but she ignored it.

With narrowed eyes, she stared at Harry for a few seconds before reaching down and taking this erection in her hand. He remained quiet, but squeezed his eyes shut as Hermione gently rubbed the tip with her thumb.

"What do you want, Harry?" she purred, leaning onto him, her breasts sliding against his soapy chest.

Harry opened his eyes and looked up at her from under his thick lashes. "I don't know," he answered.

Hermione pressed her lips to his. "Do you want me as a friend or as a lover?" she mumbled against his pouting mouth, her hand contracting around his cock in a way she hoped was both painful and pleasurable.

Harry shivered, but didn't answer right away. Instead, he bucked into her hand and tried to find something to hold onto along the shower wall. "I don't know, 'Mione!" he moaned quietly.

Hermione sighed and released his cock, and stepped out of the shower, not bothering to rinse the soap off her chest. She left the steamy bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Maybe she was judging Harry too harshly. After all, she didn't know what she wanted from him either.

* * *

Harry stood against the shower wall, his chest heaving and the water from the faucet pounding down on him. His cock ached from Hermione's touch and he reached down to finish himself off quietly…

He exited the bathroom wearing only a towel, hoping that Hermione would still be in the room so that he might have a chance to talk to her seriously. Hopefully he hadn't upset her in some way, he just wanted to know if he could even s_ee_ her as "just a friend" anymore. The whole time he had been in the shower, he had been trying to imagine her as Ron, to no avail.

Sadness filled Harry when he realized that she had left, leaving nothing but rumpled bed sheets to even suggest that she had been there at all. The room was utterly devoid of any life or personality. Harry rationalized that once he had gotten used to the garish four-poster bed with navy and black dressings and the starkness of the dark-lacquered walls it might not feel so empty after all. And with a roaring fire in the hearth, well, it might just seem cheery.

With a sigh, Harry busied himself with getting ready, only to discover that he had absolutely no idea where his glasses had gone. After retrieving his wand from where it rolled under a dresser, he cast a simple vision charm. The glasses were pretty much useless anyway; he just liked to think they made him look mysterious. Or maybe it was just something to hide behind. Harry had never really thought about it before.

* * *

Hermione was chatting merrily to Minerva McGonagall at her new seat to the left of the headmistress. Since the seat was vacant when she arrived and there was no sense in sitting at the very end of the table by herself, not to mention the fact that she wasn't too keen on having to sit next to Harry for every meal, she sat down right away, jumping at the chance to reacquaint herself with her former Transfiguration professor.

McGonagall was just telling Hermione about a trip she had taken to France a year or so after the war to suggest an exchange program with Beauxbatons when Harry slunk into the room. But he sure did draw a lot of attention for someone who was slinking.

Harry had dressed his best to make a good impression on his first day as professor. Gone were the jeans that showed off his tight body so nicely. Instead, he wore black fitted slacks and a burgundy dress shirt under the customary black Hogwarts robes with the school crest.

Hermione looked down. She was wearing a simple light pink blouse and loose gray slacks under her robe and her sensible black loafers. Not exactly the epitome of hot new teacher.

And in fact, Harry was earning quite a few glances from the older female students that Hermione suspected had nothing to do with Harry being famous. Her hand tightened around her fork as she watched him make his way towards the teachers' table, not even caring that his smiles and nods in students' directions were leaving swooning girls in his wake.

"Hermione, dear, is something the matter?" McGonagall questioned.

Hermione tore her eyes away from Harry and looked at the other woman. "Oh, sorry, Minerva. I'm fine. What were you saying?" she said with an airy laugh.

"I was saying that Harry looks smashing today." McGonagall looked wistfully at Harry, probably remembering him as an eleven-year-old on his first day at Hogwarts. Scared and wearing a grubby pair of trainers that were much to big for him, Harry had somehow managed to worm his way into Minerva McGonagall's heart. Hermione wondered how he had wormed into her own heart.

McGonagall nodded as Harry pulled out the chair on the other side of Hermione. Hermione just sighed. So much for trying to maintain a safe distance...

"Good morning, ladies," Harry said, returning McGonagall's nod and barely glancing at Hermione before he sat down and started to load his plate with sausage and eggs. "I trust both of you slept well." He made no sideways glance to catch Hermione's eye.

"That was quite an entrance you made," Hermione sniffed, sipping gingerly at her goblet, remembering that last night she had been caught off guard with the wine. She doubted that they served wine with breakfast, but she wouldn't put it past them… It was pumpkin juice. Hermione took a deeper sip, letting the taste wash over her tongue and distract her from the fact that Harry's leg was pressing up against hers with a throbbing intensity.

"Entrance?" Harry looked at her quizzically, and Hermione noticed that he wasn't wearing his glasses. His eyes sparkled in the early-morning mist of the enchanted ceiling and Hermione had to look away.

"You didn't see all those girls practically dropping from their seats as you passed?" She took another sip of juice and mumbled into the goblet, "Bloody hormones."

Harry laughed. "I wouldn't be so quick to judge, Miss Granger." Hermione flinched at how he had so properly addressed her. "It looks like you've attracted some attention yourself." He pointed to the Gryffindor table with his knife.

The boy with the startling blue eyes that had tried to hit on her the night before was staring at her with a small smirk on his face as he toyed with the goblet on the table in front of him. His chest twitched with a silent laugh and he looked away from Hermione toward the girl sitting close by his side. He leaned down to plant a kiss on her lips.

"Yeah, well," Hermione said lamely to Harry. "What happened to your glasses?" she asked, ready to change the subject away from her admirer.

Harry shrugged. "I was hoping maybe you would know, actually." He grinned sheepishly.

Before Hermione could answer with a tart reply, a smooth voice interrupted her. "Potter, I believe I have something of yours."

* * *

Harry looked up to see his glasses, held out to him by a man's pale hand. He followed the line of the man's arm to his face and Harry's jaw dropped.

"Malfoy," he spat. Harry felt Hermione stiffen beside him and barely registered that the pressure he felt on his thigh was Hermione's hand.

Draco Malfoy smiled. "I almost didn't return these horrid things, you know." He spoke casually enough, but his eyes boring into Harry's made his hair stand on end and Hermione's fingers dig into his leg.

Harry reached out and snatched the frames from Malfoy's outstretched hand and shoved them in the inside pocket of his robe. "Where did you find them?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and braced his arms on the table. "You're welcome, Potter. Have you always been this courteous?" he snapped sarcastically. "I found them in the hall last night. You must have…" his gray orbs flickered to Hermione and then back to Harry so fast, Harry was almost convinced that he had imagined it. But then again, he probably hadn't. "Dropped them," Malfoy finished.

He stood and made his way to the opposite end of the table.

"Good morning, Draco," McGonagall said with a small nod as he passed.

A pearly white smile graced his mouth. "Morning, Minnie," he replied casually, the oily tone of his voice making Harry visibly cringe.

Once Malfoy was a good distance away, Hermione removed her hand from Harry's leg, much to his dismay and resumed eating, casting occasional suspecting glances at the other end of the table, where Malfoy was talking animatedly with Filch, his back to the pair.

"Do you think he knows?"

Harry stared at the back of Malfoy's hair and shook his head. "How could he?" He took a forkful of eggs, popped them in his mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. "We'll just need to be more careful next time," he said carefully, watching Hermione's face for subtle changes.

Hermione wiped her mouth and put her napkin on the empty plate in front of her and stood, pushing her chair under the table as she walked away.

Maybe he was expecting too much from her. After all, he didn't know what he wanted from her either.


	10. Fight

a/n: Sorry for the wait guys!! For your patience, I give you a longer chapter... Well, longer by my standards...

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

Harry followed Hermione out of the Great Hall, ridiculous, he knew, but he needed an answer, and if he didn't have one for himself, maybe she could give him one to borrow, at least for the time being.

"Hermione, wait!" he called out, cursing himself for sounding like a character out of a muggle soap opera.

She stopped halfway up the flight of stairs she was on, but didn't turn around to face him, which made what he wanted to say all that much harder. He saw her shoulders heaved with what he supposed was a sigh.

"I love you, 'Mione, really, I do," Harry began uneasily, staring at the portrait closest to him, a garish country hunting scene. He watched as the powerful black horses stamped their hooves impatiently as if prodding him to get on with it.

Hermione's back visibly stiffened at the utterance of those words, but she remained silent, the hand that she had placed on the banister to steady her climb shook. Her grip on the dark wood tightened and Harry could imagine her biting her lower lip in dread.

"But…"

"Yes, there's always a 'but,' isn't there Harry," she interrupted with a quiet intensity.

Harry sighed and continued as if she hadn't spoken. "I just need to know if you love me too."

Her brown curls that Harry had always found so beguiling, though Hermione hated them, bounced slightly as she shook her head. "You know I do, Harry."

"But do you love me as a best friend, or something more? Because I think we need to decide."

Hermione laughed, a high-pitched, mirthless sound. She turned finally, her face rosy with frustration, but nowhere near on the verge of tears, as Harry had assumed by the watery quality to her voice. "I can't…" she began then shook her head again, looking above her towards the staircases that shifted silently above her.

"Then tell me why," Harry pleaded, taking a step towards her. "Why is it so difficult to give your heart to someone?"

"I just can't do it again, Harry!" she said sharply holding her hand up to stop him from saying anything else. Harry bit his tongue and tried to force the words that he had always wanted to tell her back down his throat where they had been for so long.

"Obviously, this whole… endeavour was a bad idea," she continued in a strained business-like tone. "While I am glad that I got it out of my system, I don't think it's prudent that we continue to carry on like… over-stimulated teenagers."

Harry's face fell and he nodded, thinking about what she had said and staring at the flagstones beneath his feet. "So you'd rather push me away and pretend like sex doesn't matter, like I don't matter, than tell me what happened to you?"

"Happened…?"

"I thought I had changed that year," Harry continued as he made his way up the staircase to stand on the step just below her. Hermione shied away slightly, but she didn't back away. "I got back, hoping beyond hope that maybe I could have a little normalcy. But my two best mates wouldn't speak to each other and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why and neither one of them trusted me enough to tell me…

"What happened?" He grabbed Hermione by the shoulders and shook her, her hair flying around her scrunched up face as she winced away from him

"Nothing happened!" she yelled in his face, pulling herself from his grasp violently. She glared at him as she straightened her robes indignantly where Harry had mussed them up. "And don't blame this solely on me because you have no fucking clue what you want either."

"Maybe that's true," Harry said with a shrug. "But at least I'm willing to admit that I'm confused instead of pretending that everything's fine." He turned and grasped the handle of the doors to the Great Hall. "I'm here when you're ready to talk, but other than that, I see no need to try anymore."

Dramatically, he wrenched open the doors and went back inside the bustling room.

* * *

Hermione watched as the door shut behind him. She couldn't help but feel as though a weight had been lifted. He had made the decision for her, but, as always, Harry Potter had chosen the unforeseen third option: Completely severing their ties.

Tears threatened to spill over, but Hermione sniffed hard, ignoring the itchy feeling at the back of her throat.

Who was he to judge her? Just because every moment of his life was chronicled in magazines, newspapers, and even a few books about the war and an unofficial biography that was in the works didn't mean everyone else's history was just as readable.

Ron was the first, but he was by no means the last, and she had given her heart to every single one of them. Hermione didn't even know if there was any of the organ left for herself to use.

That had been a long time ago, it seemed, but old habits die hard and keeping secrets die harder. It was just easier if she remained open, because as soon as she committed, she would be disappointed.

With a final sniff and a press of her forefingers to her cheekbones to see if her face was puffy, Hermione collected her thoughts and continued up the stairs to her new office.

* * *

"Zanier, Bernice?" Harry called. A girl on the Slytherin side of the room with short black hair raised her hand and lowered it again slowly, her dark eyes appraising Harry silently. Harry nodded to his quill, which swiped an X on the roll sheet next to the girl's name. The paper promptly disappeared with a puff of smoke and the quill floated to rest in the inkwell on Harry's desk.

"I'm Professor Potter," Harry said, leaning against the edge of his desk. It was the first time he had ever actually uttered his proper title. And when he folded his arms and stared out at the class- _his _class- he could almost believe he really was a professor. "Now that we're acquainted, does anyone have any questions?"

At least ten hands shot into the air, but one girl, who reminded Harry a lot of Hermione in both appearance and attitude, spoke out without being called upon. "Is it true you were friends with a werewolf?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a contemptuous snort from the Slytherin side. "I heard it was just an animagus who turned into a big, black dog. That's nothing special. My mum's an animagus." Harry's mouth snapped shut.

"Where are your glasses?" asked another Gryffindor female, smiling flirtatiously and leaning over her desk with her hands under her chin.

"I think he looks better without them."

"But he's not Harry Potter without the ruddy glasses!"

"Can you show us your scar?"

"Say, you're pretty good friends with Professor Granger, aren't you?"

Harry sighed and ruffled his hair in annoyance. "Does anyone have a question that pertains to the _dark arts_?"

Every arm that was raised slowly sunk back down, their owners casting glances about the room, curious to see who could possibly have something more interesting to talk about when _The_ Harry Potter was standing before them.

When no one spoke, Harry gave the class a tight-lipped smile. "Turn to page fifty-three." The silence was filled with the rustling of pages.

* * *

Hermione sighed as she watched the last few students trail out of her classroom. It had been a fairly good period, she supposed. No one had fallen asleep, but a few Hufflepuffs had come dangerously close. She shuffled some papers on her desk absently and thought about her next lesson. The previous teacher had left so much untaught, she really didn't know where to begin...

"Professor…"

She looked up to see who had interrupted her thoughts and found the boy who had been staring at her unabashedly during breakfast to be the one responsible. Lucky for her, she also had to endure his leering a whole class period twice a week. She doubted if he even knew what her face looked like, seeing as he only found it necessary to direct all questions and comments to her chest.

Stifling a groan of aggravation, Hermione forced her lips into a thin smile. "Yes, Casper?"

"I'm a bit confused…" He smiled sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders, but Hermione wasn't buying it. There was a certain glint in his blue eyes that said he was up to something. Hermione had been best friends with two teenage boys back when she was in school. If she couldn't tell when a guy had a plan, there was something wrong with her.

Still, she played along. "About what?" She folded her hands across her desk importantly and tried not to look too gullible.

Casper's smile widened ever so slightly. "Everything." He gave her a pitiful laugh and threw the hand that didn't hold his Arithmancy book into the air helplessly. "You're a much better teacher than Professor Vector was. Your lessons have more... _depth_." Hermione did not like the inflection he put on that last word. "I'm afraid I can't keep up."

With a sigh, Hermione stood, gathering some papers in her hands as she did so and piling them in her arms to shield her breasts from his wandering eyes. "Well, I offer tutoring…"

Casper sighed as if hearing the news was a huge relief and let his shy smile fall into an easy one. "You're a lifesaver, Professor."

Hermione nodded and made an affirming noise in the back of her throat. "Tomorrow after class," she said to him as made his way to the door.

"Tomorrow," he repeated over his shoulder, giving her a tiny, imperceptible wink as he turned the corner.

She watched him go with a look of horror blatantly obvious on her face. "What have I done now…" she chided herself.

* * *

Harry inhaled the musty scent of old parchment and smiled. He let his fingers trail across the books on the shelves that circled the room. These books had been there for centuries, he'd wager, their true owner long dead and forgotten.

Curious, Harry pulled one from the shelf and opened it to a random page. "_Henrietta's creamy white skin tingled at Gregory's touch, her ample bosom swelling with anticipation as he grasped his wand and-_"

"Doing a bit of light reading, I see?"

Harry snapped the book shut guiltily and looked up to see who had entered his office, though the gesture wasn't necessary, as he could determine the intruder by his voice.

"May I help you, Malfoy?" Harry asked tersely, a bit unnerved at his unexpected appearance, but not at all surprised by it. Malfoy had spent the better part of his Hogwarts career sneaking up on people. He probably knew more secret passages that Fred and George could have ever dreamed of.

Malfoy laughed and strode towards Harry at a leisurely pace. "I was just checking up on _Professor _Potter." He gave the other man a sarcastic look of pity. "I heard we had a bit of a time getting our students to cooperate today."

With a shake of his head, Harry turned to put the book back up on the shelf where he had gotten it. "Are you just here to torture me with your presence, or is there something you needed?"

He smirked. "No, just here for the torture…" Harry gritted his teeth. "But, I do have some advice for you, professor to professor," Malfoy corrected quickly, taking note of Harry's flaring temper.

"Well?"

"And I was wondering if we could talk over dinner, perhaps?" Malfoy's smile grew inexplicably.

Harry took a step back in surprise and measured the look on Malfoy's face. He appeared to be sincere, but maybe that was his plan...

"Come, now, Potter," Malfoy said in a bored tone as he leaned against the side of a bookcase, his ankles crossed and his arms folded. "We're adults now, there's no need to keep up with this childish animosity. Quite frankly, it wears me out."

Harry nodded, trying to see the trick in Malfoy's latest scheme. "Yeah, dinner would be nice," he agreed warily.

"Great." Malfoy righted himself and dusted off his hands. "I'll see you tonight then."

"Tonight," Harry repeated as the blonde strode from his office without a second glance.

Once he was out of sight, Harry sighed loudly. "What have I done now…"

* * *

Woo! Review please!


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